The Emancipation of Hanna
by Songbird6120
Summary: Starting where the movie ended, an inside perspective of what Hanna is going through mentally & emotionally. This will also become the story of where Hanna goes after she's taken out her main target. Where will she go now that she has no one, as one who was created as the perfect weapon, what is her destiny and how is she to find it. I will attempt to answer all of these questions.


HANNA

The muggy and sticky Berlin air whips in angry whirlwinds about the decaying park. It kicks up the stray pale waves of her hair into her face, but she doesn't care or even seems to notice. The broken woman that now lies on her back looking up into her face with a mixture of terror, curiosity and awe. She clearly doesn't know how to react or much of anything else, but the end flickers in her cold eyes. No longer a threat, but somehow is able to strike a sliver of a cold and unknown emotion in her that she still is unable to name, like lightning rattling in her ribcage and seizing her heart - maybe this is the fear that father spoke of, she thinks to herself, the words echo within her mind,… the only father I was ever granted.

These thoughts are soon pushed into the back of her mind to ruminate and find anchor in the garden of her mind for later preening. The cold steel pickles her hand and fingertips. She can feel her pulse beat and radiate down to her fingertips to mix with the chill of the metal pumping against it, her fingers carry their own pulse as she rights the pistol in her hand. She breathes in and out steady and sure, just like her father taught her. She looks down emotionless and blank faced as she says…

"I just missed your heart…"

She pulls the trigger

BAANNGGG!

It's over. She watches the life drain from her eyes and flesh as her life essence recedes in on itself, like a supernova only it does not create something unimaginably dangerous and beautiful, it merely ceases and stops, a means to an end, and Marissa Wiegler is over.

The shot still rigs off the rusting metal and rotting wood, she cannot tell if it is actually still ringing or if her brain has not caught up with reality. She knows Marissa is dead, she does not even have to bend down to verify the kill, to press her fingers against the pale skin she knows is already growing cold. Never has a kill affected her this much, she has executed countless victims since the week or so before, and without effect, never stopping never relenting to the instinctive reaction to murder that is coded deep in the recesses of her DNA. But that reaction, that instinct is for the weak. Until now, she is forced to cope with this new emotion. Only this time she knows it does not have a name.

It is one of those emotions, the one we have, as humans, always struggled to convey outwardly no matter how hard we try. The kind that humanity has left to drift aimlessly without a tile or a label, a description or a definition. The kind that floats out in a dark void of our subconscious destined to remain uncharted and unexplored by our delicate constitutions. As we are deathly afraid of the black voids of ourselves. The very meaning of our id, it will remain nameless wild and untamed, until we come to a point where we need that word to describe this unique drive or lack thereof. Perhaps that is its destiny not to be misconstrued and abused but to remain anonymous, only for us to ponder and then to ultimately accept without question. And that is just the ways she likes is, she doesn't have to explain herself anymore, she embodies the rogue, her ultimate is to be free…

Her heightened senses quickly synapse the smell of death and metallic blood rising in the air, she knows it partially her own, which is another reason she needs to flee. Others are soon to follow. Her flight instinct activates and she deftly careens up the indentations of the rusting metal slide. Once she reaches the flat landing she strides confidently, without fear and with a touch of irony into the gaping jaws of the wolf's mouth. Although, she can't help but grasp her abdomen as the blood still flows, the pain is minimal but Marissa did meet her target. The slide opening seems to dementedly invite her in, the harmless fairy tale come to life… come back to haunt her. Even with the stench of blood shrouding her body she takes the invitation and covers herself in the darkness that the cave offers.

She is Hanna- and big bad wolves no longer scare her, but her future does.

Fear what is fear, she wasn't programmed to feel fear.

"I'm not meant for that." she half whispers, as her words devoid of emotion, reverberate through the tunnel of the amusement park's wolf jaws, and flow out into the air to meet the void- just like the uncertainty ahead.


End file.
